I Take Thee, Snakeface
by Half-BPrincess
Summary: To end the war, Harry agrees to marry Voldemort, taking Hermione with him to live in the Dark Lord's castle. But Hermione's soon screwing Snape, and why is Voldemort burning things in his favourite tearoom? Somewhat of a silly, crack!fic
1. Chapter 1

"No. Fuck you. Fuck _all _of you. I'm not doing it." Harry sat back in his seat, dragging a hand through his rumpled hair, wondering whose idea thisinsane, foolproof 'plan-to-beat-the-dark-lord' was. "Come on, this is classic Fred and George! Where are they hiding anyway? Under the table, or something?"

The rest of the Order of the Phoenix shifted uncomfortably in their seats, looking at each other nervously. It was never a good sign when their saviour started to blame things on the twins.

"Harry, this is not a joke, no matter how it may seem. This is a valid proposal, from all that we can tell. If you do this, we will have a genuine peace treaty." Dumbledore paused, eyes meeting Harry's. "Don't you want to go outside again, Harry? Don't you want to be just a normal boy?"

"Oh right, 'cause this would make me normal, wouldn't it?" Harry shook his head in disgust. "Would it _fuck_. Yeah, I want to go outside, but I'm _seventeen._ I can deal with not getting what I want. What I don't want is to _marry_ fucking snake-face! Whose fucking mental idea was this then?"

"Harry, my boy, I can't just tell you-" Dumbledore began, only to be interrupted by Snape, sitting in the corner.

"I passed on the contract from the Dark Lord himself." The greasy git hissed. "A contract that I would strongly suggest you take. Have you even read it yet?"

"He sent something to read? Great. Cause all I got was Twinkletoes here telling me it would be for the 'greater good' to marry Voldyshorts. Rest of you read it? Know about it?" Harry glared at each Order member in turn, rolling his eyes when the first eight ducked their heads guiltily. "Oh Harry, we're so glad to have you in the Order!" He mimicked the voice of Nymphadora Tonks as he stared, her hair turning dark red showing her embarrassment. "It'll be so good not to have to keep secrets from you, Harry!" He pasted a simpering smile onto his face as he spoke. "Fucking hypocrites."

"Harry, we thought that you had read it, I mean-" Remus Lupin, stepping in to save the day and failing, yet again.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire." Harry sung, smile still plastered on.

"Harry, stop that right now!" Hermione's voice, and a sharp elbow, came from his left. "Behave like an adult, please, and consider this rationally." She turned away from him as he huffed in agreement, steely glare landing on the Headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore, you know that you should have given the full proposal to Harry, seeing as it is _his _life, and _his _decision, but he is willing to forgive that-"

"Forgive it fuck," Harry muttered insolently, groaning as the elbow hit his side again.

"He is willing to forgive that," Hermione continued. "If you give him the full proposal now. A proposal that Professor Snape will be reading over again to make sure that it _is _the full proposal."

With a sigh, the Headmaster produced a roll of parchment from his sleeve, passing it over to Hermione, who handed it to Harry without looking at it.

"Thank you, Headmaster. Now, Harry, Professor Snape and I will be in the library. We will return to the meeting when Harry has considered the proposal." Hermione's hand under his elbow pulled Harry to his feet, and a sharp glare and raised eyebrow convinced Snape to follow.

Harry sat where Hermione had placed him, on the loveseat in the library, Hermione tucked in next to him, as she had done since Ron's death. Snape stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"For God's sake, Professor, close that damn door and put up some privacy charms, will you?" Hermione snapped, gesturing to him to sit in a chair once he'd finished. "Go on, Harry, have a read, then we'll talk it over afterwards.

Harry obeyed, unrolling the parchment easily.

_MARRIAGE CONTRACT_

_I, Lord Voldemort, also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, hereby state my intention to marry and to bond with Harry James Potter. If this contract is enacted, I shall give my promise;_

_1. To cease all hostile and violent actions performed by myself, and by my forces against the Wizarding and Muggle worlds._

_2. To protect, with all of my being, said bride._

_3. To ensure that said bride comes to no harm whilst within my jurisdiction._

_4. To teach, and to train said bride to the best of my abilities in any and all subjects that should interest him, or to provide tutors for any subjects in which I cannot teach._

_5. To allow one friend of said bride to reside within my jurisdiction and to have prolonged contact with said bride._

_If this contract is enacted, I shall expect;_

_1. The cessation of all hostile and violent actions performed against myself, and my forces by the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic._

_2. The right to deal with those who have broken the laws of my jurisdiction within my jurisdiction, however is seen fit by our courts of law._

_3. Said bride to reside within my jurisdiction, and to share a bedchamber with myself._

_4. Said bride to refrain from any destructive action against myself, my forces, and himself._

_If any conditions of this contract are broken, all terms of this contract is to be considered null and void excepting those specifically regarding said bride._

"You weren't always such a harpy." Snape's voice observed from across the room.

"My fiancé wasn't always dead." Hermione's stone cold rejoinder. Pause. "What will you do, if Harry accepts? Where will you go?"

"I will go to my Lord. And yourself?"

"I will go with Harry, if he wants me." Harry cleared his throat then, looking up, pretending that he hadn't heard their conversation.

"So, it's a case of my happiness for everyone else's survival?" He asked Snape pointedly, surprised when the older man shook his head.

"The Dark Lord wishes for you to be happy. He believes that you will grow to be happy with him."

"And if he is wrong?"

"Then, yes. Your happiness for the survival of the rest of the world. Is it really such a bad deal?"

"It is for me."

"Let me read it, Harry?" Hermione asked, nudging his shoulder with her head. "We can talk our way through it. I'm sure Voldemort will negotiate if there are things that you don't like, or desperately want, isn't that right, Professor?"

"I'm not your _damn _Professor, Granger!" Snape spat angrily. "Hogwarts is _dead_, girl. It's been dead ever since that damn mutt died!" He paused, voice uncertain. "I'm sorry, Potter, that was uncalled for. There is room for negotiation."

"Thank you, _Professor_." Hermione smiled softly. "Hogwarts isn't dead, sir, it's just hibernating. Once this war is over, it _will _be back. It hasn't been that long, not really. Only two years."

"Two years of war is long enough." Harry interjected, voice hollow. "If I accept this as it is, how long will it be until the wedding?"

"Three days, with an end to hostilities beginning as soon as you sign the bottom of the contract. The bonding to be held that night."

"Harry! You need to think about this!" Hermione demanded. "This is your _life_, you can't base it on a spur-of-the-moment decision!"

"Hermione, how many Order Members are out in the field right now? How many people that we know?" Harry asked slowly. "Forty three are in that meeting room right now. If I sign this now, that's forty three people who get to go home. Forty three people who get to live the rest of their lives. I'd be a fool to keep this war going. I know that we're not winning. We're not losing either, but in a war like this, a draw will end with all of us dead." His eyes met hers, a wry smile on his face. "Got a quill, Hermione?"


	2. Chapter 2

"That's a dress." Harry stated flatly. "I'm not wearing a fucking dress, Hermione."

"But Harry, this is the traditional, ceremonial garb of contract brides! You have to wear it!" Harry twitched at the painful screech.

"Just run it by me _one_ more time why the fuck I'm the woman in this? Why can't fucking Mouldy-Shorts wear the fucking dress?"

"Because, Harry, the groom is the most powerful wizard!"

"I'm powerful!" Harry sulked. "Why not just have two grooms?"

"Because the groom position also signifies who takes whose name!" Hermione frowned as she sat next to Harry again. "Harry, we've already been through this. You're going to be Harry James Riddle by the end of today, and you're going to wear that goddamn dress, capeesh?"

"Eh, I think you might have just watched too many mobster films." Harry joked.

"Put. That. Dress. On. NOW!" Hermione directed. Harry was sure that had she been standing, she would have stamped her foot.

"Er, no, Hermione, I don't." He sighed, sitting down on the bed behind him. "Look, Voldemort knows that I'm not a traditional bride. In fact, I'm pretty sure that that's the only reason this is gonna work. I mean, how many contract grooms look like their mum screwed a snake?" He lay back on the bed. "Come on, I'll just go in my 'sexy leather armour', it'll be great!"

"Aw, no, Harry. Not the leather!" Hermione groaned. "Why the hell Ginny had to tell you that I really don't know!"

"Just because I'm gay, girls can't tell me I'm pretty?" Harry rolled over, batting his eyelashes at his best friend.

"Ha! That's all you think it is, Potter?" Hermione snorted. "Sweet, little innocent Ginny wanted to be Mrs Potter!"

"Ew, Hermione, that's so gross!" Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Yuck, girls!"

"Harry, you sound like a four year old with cooties."

"Yeah, a four year old whose getting married." Harry sighed heavily. "Fuck. I'm getting married today!" He looked at the dress once more and grimaced. "Go on, go put on your Maid-Of-Honour gear. I'll wear the fucking dress."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgeour walked Harry down the aisle, as the highest ranked and most powerful of the light side. Well, heoretically, at least.

Hermione grimaced and shook her head at the sight of Harry in his leather body armour. Some things would never work, no matter how much effort she put into them.

Standing at the altar was Snakeguts himself. Harry made an effort to twist his face into his most intimidating sneer, steeling himself as Scrimgeour placed his hand into Voldemort's scaly grip. Oddly, he wasn't as slimy as he first looked, much like real snakes, Harry realised.

"Potter, are you alright?" Voldemort lent forwards so that only Harry could hear what was being said. "You look as if you're terribly constipated."

"Fuck you, Snakeshit." Harry grumbled. "That was intimidating."

"Ah, yes, of course. Consider me intimidated."

"Good." Harry paused, looking his groom up and down carefully. "You should know, you're not getting laid unless you're human. I'm not Aberforth Dumbledore, I don't like animals the same way your mother did."

"Glad to know you don't screw Muggles, Potter." Voldemort nodded serenely. "Because if you have, you're not getting laid until we _Scourgify _your equipment, and your arse."

As the elderly wizard started the ceremony, the official photographer caught several stunning shots of Harry's horror and pain within the twenty minutes following said comment. Of course, The Daily Prophet would report that the expression had been their saviour's distaste at marrying the darkest of Dark Lords, although the comparison to the expression seen in the damning photographs of Aberforth Dumbledore with his 'prize' goat did cause said saviour to repeat the arrangement of his facial features once more.

"You were supposed to be wearing a dress." Voldemort mumbled, as the room sung a chorus of 'God Save The Bride', to the tune of 'God Save The Queen'.

"You were supposed to be a beautiful prince ready to sweep me off my feet." Harry replied, sarcasm evident in his harsh tone. "But fuck life ever going right for me!"

"The leather _is _quite sexy." Voldemort mused.

Harry's horrified expression remained until well after their first kiss, up to the best man's speech, in fact.

"In the early days of marriage, a best man was called a best man as he helped to kidnap the bride before the wedding. While I have not, in fact, kidnapped the bride, I have tried to poison him on more than one occasion. Here's to my succeeding!"

"To success!" Offered the rest of the crowd, chinking glasses of strong rum.

"Why the hell would you have Snape as your best man, knowing that he hates your husband?" Harry asked during the first dance.

"Technically, you're my wife, Mr Riddle." Harry scowled at the reminder of his newly married status, accidentally-on-purpose grinding his heel into the front of Voldemort's foot.

"Oops." Harry smirked unrepentantly at the grimace on his husband's face.

"Brat." Voldemort returned, and Harry was once more forced back into his unnerved state at the fondness in the elder - man? beast? snake/human hybrid? - snake/human hybrid's tone.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

On the other side of the dance floor, the maid of honour and best man danced smoothly together.

"You'd know, I suppose, that it's a Muggle tradition for the best man to seduce the maid of honour?" Severus observed as he spun Hermione in his arms.

"Head bridesmaid, actually." Hermione corrected, nimbly following the intricate series of steps that he'd initiated. "Which would be Ginny Weasley here - feel free to make the attempt, Professor."

"Unfortunately, my - ah duties as best man also include showing the friend who is to accompany Pot- Rid- _Harry _to their quarters in my Lord's castle." Severus smirked down at her from the promenade position. "Which would be…"

"Myself, of course. It wouldn't do for you to abandon your duties in favour of seducing nubile young women, would it?"

"No, I daresay that I couldn't _abandon my duties_, Miss Granger." They advanced a few steps, before retreating into another turn. "Speaking of duties, the supply of Polyjuice potion that I had been brewing for my Lord is no longer needed. I don't suppose that you would have any suggestions as to what to do with it?"

"Well, there's always the possibility of investigating the veracity of the claims of the last journal article by Professor Jirshiem - you remember, Professor? That Polyjuice can be used with any hairs, even those taken from the deceased."

"Why yes, I do remember that Miss Granger. Perhaps you would care to involve yourself in my experiments? I am sure that we could come to a… mutually beneficial arrangement."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

"Uh, hey, speaking of Snape, where's he gone? I'm sure he was dancing with Hermione a minute ago…?" Harry scanned the room suspiciously. "You haven't done anything to her, have you?"

Voldemort snorted and sneered in one fluid motion.

"As if I would." He paused as if in thought. "Although I wouldn't put it past Severus to do something. We should take our portkey to my castle, just in case."

Harry nodded, absently taking hold of the teacup that his husband held out to him, stumbling into the snakeface as they landed in an opulent bedroom.

"Granger's room is just across the hall," Voldemort offered, sweeping out of the room, not noticing Harry's speculative gaze which rested on the silken bedspread. He'd planned to conjure a bed in the corner to get around the requirements of the contract, but silk sheets? It was going to be a difficult decision.

Harry hurried out of the room, only to see the snake-man stood stock still in a doorway.

"Oh god, what is it? He's killed her, hasn't he? There's blood everywhere, right?" Harry made to push past, but was stopped by the palest face he'd ever seen on a Dark Lord.

"Harry, I wouldn't if I were you, this isn't something that you need to see." He began shepherding Harry away, but Harry ducked around him, proving to be as nimble on his feet as he was renowned for on a broom.

"I have to see this, she was my best fri- Oh dear MERLIN!" Harry screamed as he turned to look into the room.

"Oh-oh, ah, Harry!" Lily Potter moaned from the bed.

"Go… fuck… your… self… Potter!" Ron called from on top of her. One of them, Harry couldn't work out which, waved a hand and the door slammed shut in his face.

"Was that-?" Harry gaped. "That can't have been Ron? And my Mum? Aw, shit! I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Me too." Voldemort agreed sombrely. "I'm confiscating Severus's Polyjuice."


	3. Chapter 3

They didn't do the bonding ritual that night, both being too distracted by the horrific scene they had witnessed, deciding to wait for the bile to recede.

"You know, we need to have sex for the bonding." Harry said conversationally from the bed - the silken sheets had proven to be irresistible.

"Oh no, did we really? When the books said that the husband must insert his snake into the wife's chamber of secrets, I thought it meant that I should breed another basilisk for Hogwarts."

"There's no need for sarcasm." Harry sniffed haughtily.

"There's no need for you to state the obvious."

"I'm not screwing a monster!"

"I thought you had recognised the sarcasm when I mentioned the basilisk."

"Oh darling husband of mine, take a look in the mirror - if I screw you I'll be traumatized."

"That's not what Little Harry said when he was snuggled up close to me this morning."

"If 'Little Harry' was snuggled up to you, you'd know that he's anything but little." Harry smirked triumphantly at the leer his husband was giving him - wait, he hadn't meant for that to happen, had he?

Voldemort stalked over to the bed, taking Harry's wrists in his hands, and pinning them to the bed above Harry's head. His lips descended, and Harry could barely think, until he bucked upwards, and his eyes opened, and -

"I think I'm gonna be sick!"

By the time that Harry had pulled his head up from the side of the bed, Voldemort didn't really look like he was in 'the mood' anymore.

"I need a drink." Voldemort sighed, pulling himself up from the press up position. "Look, Potter, I performed the ritual that will transform me back into a human, it just requires me to completely deplete my magical core first, which is very difficult for me as I have a lot of excess power. Duel with me, tomorrow, and we'll see how much I can get rid of."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked curiously. Voldemort had been his only company for the few days that he'd been at the castle, as currently the only other residents of the castle had been caught shagging – whilst polyjuiced into his dead mother and best friend. Not an image that Harry _wanted _to remember.

"I'm going to the tea room on the next floor down, I need some time to reconcile myself to the fact that my wife is sick when he sees me."

"Voldemort, I- I'm sorry. If it helps, I don't think it was all you... I mean, I wasn't feeling well this morning either and I've been really tired as well, and-"

"You weren't feeling well and you let me _kiss _you? If I get diseased now, Potter, you're the one who gets to look after me seeing as it'll be all your fault!"

"Mmmkay," Harry mumbled, relaxing back into the silk sheets. "I'ma take a nap then..."

- HBP – HBP – HBP – HBP – HBP -

"Harry! Harry! Wake up! We need to go burn the furniture!" Voldemort shook the teen awake roughly.

"Whuzzup?" He grumbled, still half asleep. "Where's the fire?"

"There's no fire yet, silly, we're going to make the fire!"

"Why do we need fire again?"

"Your friend has corrupted Severus. They were in my tea room. My beautiful tea room, and now we need to burn it all, it's ruined! All ruined!"

"You have a _tea room?_" Harry frowned in confusion.

"Of course – where else would I drink tea?"

"Aaand why does the tea room need to be burnt?"

"There are bodily fluids. On. Every. Surface."

"Awww, fuck. You didn't get all of the Polyjuice?"

"They used glamours. I've confiscated their wands."

"D'ya think we should burn those too?"

"Maybe later. Come on, we're going to _burn_!"

- HBP – HBP – HBP – HBP – HBP -

Three hours later Harry retired, alone to the bed in their shared room; the silken sheets having made it his favourite place in the manor. Voldemort had shown him fiendfyre whilst they were burning the furnishings in the tea room, and Harry was still shaking in shock that the bast- his _husband _had had the tongue of his fiendfyre snake trace his neck. He was even more shook up by the fact that not only had it _not hurt_, it had actually felt quite... nice. If you substituted erotic for nice, that is.

Ironically, the one time that Harry thought he might have been able to stomach kissing the snake-man, he'd left to perform his ritual to change him back into a man. Harry smiled sappily at the canopy covering their bed, it wouldn't be long before he'd be with his husband, and, if Harry's memory served him correctly, Tom Riddle cut quite the figure. Harry had, once or twice (or every night for three months), had very... interesting dreams about what young Tom might do to him in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry snickered at the thought... Perhaps he could convince Voldemort that they _really _needed to pop into Hogwarts...

He awoke an unknown time later, to snores and a heavy weight on his chest. Peering downwards Harry could just about make out a head of dark hair. He'd had a particularly delightful dream involving that head of hair perched between his legs using his wicked tongue down in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry smiled lecherously, lazily reaching out with the arm his husband hadn't pinned down for his glasses. Harry wriggled slightly to his left, if he could just get another inch or two further then he'd be able to finally see that gorgeous face...

"You're moving." Grumbled the dark head of hair on his chest. "S'too early. Stop moving."

Tom shifted on top of him, obviously intent on finding a more comfortable position, and Harry froze as Tom's upper thigh rubbed deliciously against a rather awake portion of Harry's own anatomy. Harry hissed in pleasure, pressing himself further into Tom, and was rewarded by a much more deliberate rubbing by Tom's pale fingers.

"Mmm, you like me like this," Tom mumbled, his head having yet to move from Harry's chest. His nimble fingers slid up and under Harry's boxer shorts, and Harry let out a choked gasp as the soft, uncalloused fingers wrapped around him, thumb playing over his head.

"I like you _doing _this," Harry retorted snappily, the effect somewhat lessened by the groan that punctuated his words. "Merlin, Tom, harder,"

Tom chuckled, a deep, rich, mellefluous sound that, if possible, aroused Harry even further. He moaned aloud once more as Tom did something – Harry wasn't quite sure what – that completely obliterated all of his higher thought processes.

"Again!" He managed to gasp out, grateful when his husband complied. "_Fuck_!"

Harry began to pant furiously, arching his back up as far as he could. Tom chuckled and a tongue began to trace its way across his chest.

"Tom – fuck, I'm close, Tom, so- so close!" He let out a high pitched whine as Tom's strokes slowed right down. "Please, Tom, pl-"

Tom was upright, blanket artfully covering his nether regions and wand in a defensive position before the door to their bedroom hit the wall. Harry, on the other hand, was red faced, still panting with his boxers somewhere near his knees. On reflection, he wasn't entirely sure _when _his boxers had migrated, but the chilly air wasn't doing anything for his already flagging errection.

"You! You bloody snakey prick, I want my wand back!" Harry's head dropped back to the pillow with an audible thump as he watched his best friend stomp into the room, bushy hair appearing to move at an entirely different pace to her head. If he knew Hermione, she was going to rant, and it wasn't going to be short. Or pretty. Really, he shouldn't be thinking about ways to cut the length of her rant down so that he and Tom could get back to more pleasurable things...

"So you can _ruin_ another of my favourite rooms with your debauchery?" Tom made a disgusted face. "I think not. You and Severus will just have to learn to do your business in your rooms, just like the rest of us do."

"Well you obviously haven't taken care of Harry the way you should, I think you need me and Severus to give you a demonstration." Hermione snarked right back.

"I think you'll find that I had the Potter situation well _in hand _before you entered." Harry could already hear the superior smirk in Tom's voice.

"If you'd done it right, Harry wouldn't be so clean, he'd be covered in-"

"HERMIONE!" Harry shouted out, jerking upright. "Can you please not... you know? Please?"

"You know _what _husband of mine?" Tom spat out, spinning around to face Harry, who shook his head in disbelief and reached out for his glasses. "We are _married, _there should be no secrets between us!"

"Oh shut the hell up the pair of you and give me mine and Severus' wands. I do have things to do today."

"The only thing you've got to do today is Snape!" Tom whirled back to face Hermione before Harry could get his glasses on to take a look at his non-reptillian face.

"And I'll do him better than you're doing Harry!"

"Piss off you harpy and take your bloody wands with you!" Tom snapped, pulling the two sticks from a bedside table and throwing them at Hermione.

"I'll gladly piss off you bloody arsehole." Hermione glared at Tom, before rolling her eyes at Harry. "Harry, dear, put your cock away for Pete's sake, you'll catch a cold." And with that, the brightest witch of her age flounced away, no doubt for another liason with the greasiest haired wizard of all time.

Tom turned to Harry, who had only a moment to gaze on the beauty that was his husband's face; porcelain skin pulled taut across distinguished high cheekbones tinged with red, full, pink lips and deep brown eyes. And then it all twisted into an expression somewhere between a scowl and a pout.

"Who the hell is Pete, and why does he care about your cock?"

Harry sighed, pulling his boxers back up. This was going to be a long day.


	4. Chapter 4

"Couldn't just let it be, could you?" Harry hissed over the breakfast table. "You couldn't let us be for _one _fucking night?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Harry." Hermione replied primly as she peered over a book she had propped up against the vase.

"_For Pete's sake_." Harry minced with a scowl. "He's not been near fucking Muggles since the forties! How the fuck would he know Muggle phrases? It took me three hours to talk him down, _three hours!_"

"Oh don't be ridiculous Harry," Hermione huffed. "It's not like it's a new phrase, it's been around since at least 1903!"

"Yeah well if you spent fifty years repressing your childhood, I'm sure you wouldn't remember nonsensical fucking phrases either!"

"Harry!" Hermione snapped, still buttering a croissant. "I have had it up to here with you, young man! You will not be rude to me!"

"You'd be fucking rude if you couldn't fucking get a fucking shag!" Harry roared out, standing fully and banging his hands on the table. "And have you seen the fucking man? He's gorgeous, and I can't get fucking near him because every fucking time we look you're screwing some greasy git!"

"Don't call Severus that!" Hermione shouted back at him. "I will have you know his hair is only greasy because of potions!"

"I don't care. You get to shag that ugly bastard anytime you want, but I CAN'T GET LAID!"

"And there I thought that marriage meant _more _sex, not less." Came a sardonic voice from behind Harry. Hermione's face brightened as Harry whirled around to see the greasy bat himself. The scowl forming on Harry's face was wiped away as he noticed his ever-absent husband straightening his tie behind the Potions Master.

"Hermione, feel free to fuck him on the dining room table." Harry smirked as Snape began to splutter out a retort, but Harry wasn't paying him any attention. Taking hold of Tom's tie, Harry pulled the Dark Lord down so they were eye to eye.

"Harry?" Tom asked, puzzled, his eyes tracking the couple escaping through the door on the other side of the room – surely, surely, there was some way he could permanently attach clothes to them, or prevent them from engaging in... _coitus_.

"We are going to go back to our room, and you are going to strip, and then you're going to fuck me." Harry waited a moment for a response and grinned ferally when he didn't receive one. "And I don't care what you think, if I have to, I'll drag you there my fucking self."

"I... er... Well... the thing is..." Tom stammered, shifting nervously. "It's... er..."

"Your cock in me!" Harry hissed at him, glaring fiercely into his husband's eyes.

"Harry James Potter-Riddle!" Shrieked a voice behind Tom. "I am _ashamed _at your language, young man! Why I have a good mind to wash your mouth out with soap!"

"Er... Molly Weasley turned up?" Tom stated rather unnecessarily. No other witch could attain the same volume as the redhead – although Ginny, when she'd found out Harry was gay had given it a very good attempt. He'd struggled to hear anything for at least six hours after the screaming had stopped.

"Thanks for the warning," Harry pouted as Tom gently pulled his tie out of Harry's hands.

"I was coming to tell you... you just... sort of... _distracted _me." Tom shifted once more, and with a sly look down Harry could see exactly why his husband was distracted. He was sure he'd be more amused if he wasn't distracted in exactly the same way.

"And _you!_" Tom was suddenly spun round to face Molly, his eyes wide as a finger stabbed into his chest, pushing him backwards, step by step. "Don't you think I've forgotten about you! _My _Harry did _not _use language like _that_ before his marriage, which means that it is _YOUR _fault, young man! What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I... er... I think that he may have overheard some of the Death Eaters speaking, Mrs. Weasley. I have been trying to... er... keep them in line, but..." He trailed off, somehow managing to look up at the shorter women pleadingly.

"Oh dear, I know _exactly _what you mean! Those twins of mine... but of course, you don't want to hear about my family, do you?" She whirled back around, and in a blur of orange hair sped towards Harry. "Harry, dear! What in Merlin's name have you been eating, child? You're nothing but skin and bone!"

"I've been eating loads here, Mrs. Weasley," Harry protested, only to be cut off by a tutting from the elder woman.

"Nonsense, Harry. I know what newlyweds are like – I hardly think Arthur and I left the bedroom for weeks – although I do have to say I'm rather glad to see you two have at least managed to dress yourselves, although – Tom? I may call you that, of course? - your tie is ever so crooked, I can't imagine what..." She bustled back over to Tom who had, by this point, stepped a little further into the room, but as Harry watched Mrs Weasley flit over him, brushing imaginary lint from his shoulders, he thought his husband looked more than a little flighty.

"Ah – thank you, Mrs Weasley." Tom told her stiffly, but Molly's face brightened considerably.

"It's so nice to see a young man with a sense of manners these days, perhaps I should send some of my sons across for you to teach, but here I am gabbling on, I nearly forgot what I came here for!"

Tom looked across at Harry, fear in his eyes as Molly bustled her way back out of the room, wand in hand.

"You lived at the Burrow, for several months, did you not?" He asked, moving across to Harry.

"Mhmm. Used to spend as much of my summers there as I could." Harry agreed, running the tips of his fingers up Tom's arm and across to his neck, smirking as the other man arched, pushing his neck further out.

"I find it hard to believe you chose... _that_." He almost purred the last word as Harry's questing fingers traced the outer shell of his ear.

"You never met the Dursley's." Tom's eyes flashed darkly at Harry's words, and with a twist of his neck, pressed a kiss to the soft skin of Harry's wrist.

"And you shall never meet them again." He promised, lips still moving softly across his pulse point.

"Tom-" Harry protested.

"Never again, Harry." Tom repeated firmly. "Never."

"Oh just look at the pair of you!" Mrs Weasley cooed, causing both men to jerk away from each other, neither noticing the blush painting the other's cheek as they each stared pointedly at their shoes. "You remind me of myself as a newlywed, I remember once, Arthur's mother came round, only to find us both-"

"Is that cake?" Harry shouted out desperately, unwilling to imagine an end to the half-finished sentence, as he pointed at the box floating at the tip of Molly's wand.

"Well, you had to leave so early the other day – your own wedding as well – and so you never got to try the cake! Of course, this isn't the same one, but you can't be married without cake!"

"Let's have some now!" Harry had a slightly manic grin to his face as he attempted to think of nothing but cake, not how many times Molly and Athur... Cake!

"It's half-past nine in the morning." Tom said flatly, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh pish posh," Mrs Weasley floated the box across to the breakfast table, gently setting it down. "Harry's always been a bit of a sugar aficionado, haven't you dear?"

"Always a good time for cake," Harry agreed good-naturedly, peeling the lid from the box. "Ohhhh, is this your triple-chocolate-raspberry sponge?"

"Nothing but your favourite for your wedding, dearest." Molly turned to Tom apologetically. "I didn't know what your favourite was, Tom dear, but next time I bake I'll be sure to make something I know you like!"

"Thank you?" Tom sounded unsure even as he took a step towards the cake that Harry had already cut a hefty slice from. A deep breath filled his lungs and nostrils with the most delightful smell he had ever had the pleasure to know.

"Try some?" Harry offered a forkful up to his husband, who made a moan of pleasure as the decadent chocolate flavour exploded against his tastebuds.

Molly slipped out of the mansion with a smirk, her duty to her unofficial eighth child fulfilled. Surely it wouldn't take the pair _too _long to notice she'd left, and then no doubt they'd be at it – maybe even involving the cake! She chuckled as she apparated away, a fond memory of her husband and a lemon meringue tickling at her memory.

- HBP – HBP – HBP – HBP – HBP -

"This cake gets me every time." Harry grinned across at his husband, who seemed oddly non-responsive. "Tom? Tom?"

With a glazed smile Tom scooped up a forkful of cake.

"I feel sick." He mumbled around the fork. "Think I ate too much cake."

- HBP – HBP – HBP – HBP – HBP -

_A/N: Yes, in case anyone guessed, I may have been thinking about cake as I was writing this._


	5. Chapter 5

Harry scowled as he placed a cold flannel on Tom's forehead.

"Fucking Dark Lord with no impulse control." He grumbled, pulling the sheets up around his husband.

"Was good cake." Tom muttered, only half awake. "Really goo'."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, a soft smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "It _was _good cake, Tom."

Harry sat with a small smile on his face as he watched Tom slowly drift off to sleep. His husband would surely disagree as to Harry's thoughts on his relative cuteness, but what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Harry sighed and stood, moving towards the door, before giving in to his urge to kiss Tom's brow. As he leaned in close, however, a bright purple spot sprouted up. Jumping back in disbelief, Harry watched more and more spots appear on all of Tom's visible skin.

"Well, fuck!" He exclaimed, pulling back the covers to reveal the other man's torso was just as covered as his face. Vibrant purple pustules covered his entirety, and his face was now scrunched up in discomfort. "I need Snape." Harry decided aloud. "Snape will know what to do."

Decision made, Harry ran out of their bedroom, aiming first for Snape's, a small distance down the hall. Hand on the doorknob, Harry hesitated, wincing as he remembered the last time he'd seen into Snape's room. The image of his dead best friend in bed with his dead Mother would haunt him forever. With a wince, Harry threw the door open, sagging in relief to find it empty.

Remembering exactly _who_ had been polyjuiced as his mother had Harry rushing down the corridor to check Hermione's room, but one more door thrown wide left no clues as to where either of them were. Harry paced in front of Hermione's neatly made bed, desperately trying to think where Snape could be.

"Ow!" Harry yelped as he brushed up against a side table and a heavy tome dropped onto his toes. "Book – books! _Library!_"

Three flights of stairs and six corridors later, Harry burst into the library, only to run back out a moment later.

"For fucks sake, do you two ever stop fucking?" Harry screamed out, careful to keep his back to the door to avoid getting another eyeful. "Snape, I need your help."

"Severus is _not _going to Obliviate you, Harry." Hermione's prim voice called out to him.

"Why? Wait, no, I don't need him for that! Tom's sick."

"I'm in shock." Came the dry tone of Snape himself. "Apparently eating an entire cake makes you ill. Whoever could have guessed that? Indigestion potions are in the Potions Lab."

"Does indigestion give you bright purple spots?" Harry spun around at the dual intakes of breath. "What?" He hissed, stalking towards the two who were still buttoning up the last of their clothes. "What does Tom have?"

A measured glance from Hermione to Snape had the latter's scowl removed.

"Dragon pox." Was all the Potions Master said.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

They stood in the corridor outside of Tom's room, Harry pacing frantically, Hermione worriedly biting her lip. The door swung open slowly as Severus slid out, a grim look on his face.

"He definitely has it." Snape confirmed. "His skin is already beginning to tint green."

"There's a cure, isn't there, Snape." Harry stated firmly. "And you're going to brew it, and give it to him, and he's going to be fine."

"Harry, it isn't that simple." Hermione touched his shoulder gently, only to find it roughly shrugged off as Harry rounded on her.

"Yes, it _is _simple!" Harry roared, stabbing a finger at Snape. "He is going to cure my husband, and we will go back to fucking normal, okay?" Harry savagely wiped at the few tears that had escaped from his wide eyes. "Tom is going to get better. Tell me he's going to get better, Hermione. _Please,_ tell me he is going to be fine."

"Harry, I can't-"

"Fuck you, Hermione! Fuck you, Snape. Just fucking fix him!"

"Potter, this is serious. Lucius' father died from this disease. There are no absolutes here." He paused, collecting himself. "My Lord is very ill, that is true, but I do promise you that I will do everything within my power to cure him. The important thing for the moment is to keep exposure to a minimum, we need to ensure that we three stay clear of the pox."

Harry took a deep breath in, then promptly sneezed, shooting silver sparks as he did so. With a shared glance, both Hermione and Snape took a step backwards.

"Oh, fuck." Harry heard himself whisper before he blacked out.

- HBP – HBP- HBP – HBP – HBP -

"I don' wan' it, it tastes funny." Tom's voice was the first thing Harry heard when he woke up. "There was cake b'fore. Harry let me have cake. You're mean, I don' like you. Wan' Harry."

"M'here, Tom." Harry called out, voice thick with disuse. "Cake later. You're sick."

"And you're sick too, Harry James Potter! I'm going to sit you up, and you're going to drink this potion." Hermione's face appeared over Harry, pulling him upwards.

"H'rry J'mes _Riddle_." Tom slurred. "S'his name. No' Potter."

"Fine. Harry James Riddle. Drink this potion." The cool glass of a bottle was pressed against his lips and liquid poured out. Harry gagged before he swallowed, again and again until she stopped pouring.

"Tom was righ'." Harry frowned. "You're mean."

"For fucks sake." Hermione growled. "Next time, I'm in the fucking lab, Snape can deal with the pair of you."

"Like Snape." Tom hummed, half asleep already.

"Yeah, he's nicer tha' you." Harry agreed.

Hermione just swore.

- HBP – HBP- HBP – HBP – HBP -

**A/N: **Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me... Pretty much everything has been updated today, so check out the new installments of everything else too!


	6. Chapter 6

It had taken a full two weeks for Harry and Tom to return to as near normality as was possible. Snape, safely hidden in his lab had borne it stoically. Hermione however had not only taught Harry and the Dark Lord several remarkable series of insults and profanities to make even the hardiest sailor blush, but her other actions (many of which Harry refused to believe were not hallucinations) had convinced Tom that she and Bellatrix were to never be allowed to be in the same room for fear of what they could do if unleashed upon the world.

Unfortunately for Tom, on healers orders – well Snape's orders, but Harry had hallucinated a nurses hat on him – sex was forbidden for another two days. And Harry was severely testing his patience. In the past week alone Tom had found Harry nude, or partially clothed twelve times! _Twelve!_ He'd forgotten to take clothes into the ensuite bathroom every time he'd had a shower, and sauntered out in just a towel. And then he kept spilling things, and so he had to change... Tom had had enough.

"That's it, we're going out." Tom announced as Harry slowly slid a chocolate éclair into his mouth. "I can't take this anymore, you're driving me insane! I will not spend another minute in this bedroom with you!"

"But Tom, we can't spend time with Hermione and Snape, I can't face them, not after breakfast the other day." Harry complained, causing Tom to shudder at the memory. If Harry was bad, Tom dreaded to think what Hermione would be called. They'd all sat at breakfast together, and Tom wasn't sure how, but the young Muggle-born had managed to make everything she ate seem ridiculously seductive, which left his favourite Death Eater a drooling wreck while she made 'fuck-me eyes' at him. No, that was definitely not an experience that Tom wanted to replicate.

"We'll go out of the castle then! I know! We'll go to Hogwarts!" Tom announced happily. "We need to make arrangements to have my followers children still attend, and get the school up and running, so I should provide at least a couple of members of staff..."

Harry grinned, thinking back to his dreams after the chamber of secrets incident back in second year. Perhaps he could convince Tom to re-enact the series of dreams that had truly convinced him he was gay...

HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Tom marched up into Hogwarts' grounds as if he owned them, taking long strides up towards the castle, until-

"Tooooooom, this is so much walking! My boots are hurting me!" Harry whined. Tom had suggested his wearing of the new boots which had a slight heel to add to Harry's diminutive height. "I don't know how women wear these, my feet hurt already!"

"They can't be that bad, they're only shoes..." With that statement, Tom flashed back to the last time he had uttered that phrase. Bellatrix had gone on a rampage and killed four muggles with a pair of stiletto heels, laughing manically. From the look on Harry's face, the chances of the scene being repeated were pretty high – and those boots had been expensive, Tom hated to think of them being ruined by all that blood...

And so, Tom Riddle, the darkest of all Dark Lords in the history of the universe, ever, walked into Hogwarts, the premier magic school in the world, with his husband on his back. Giggling.

"Oh Tom, you're so strong! This is so fun!" Harry giggled into Tom's ear. "I love this! You should give me piggybacks everywhere!"

Tom considered it one of his greatest achievements not to drop Harry and run. To be fair, it wasn't all willpower. Tom was really very unsure that he'd be able to run after carrying Harry around for so long. It wasn't that Harry was heavy, he didn't weigh that much at all (Tom had heard rumours Harry knew legillimency, and if he wanted to consumate their marriage – _ever –_ he would make sure that thought never even crossed his mind). No, the problem was that Tom had never really carried anyone – or anything for that matter – very far. That was what magic was for, surely, but Harry had protested vehemently, and Tom had folded when Harry pulled out the big guns of his puppy-dog eyes.

"Maybe not everywhere, love." Was all Tom said, steeling himself for the many, many sets of stairs he would have to traverse to get to Dumbledore's office.

Thirty minutes and four flights of stairs later, Tom had let Harry down and had also collapsed to the floor, sure he was dying.

"I can't- I can't- can't breathe!" He gasped out. Harry pouted as he sat cross-legged at his husband's head.

"Yes you can, just breathe real slowly!" Harry rolled his eyes. "If you don't want to carry me, you can just say so you know!" Harry snorted when the only answer he received was another wheeze.

Tom found the strength to sit up when he heard footsteps approaching, it really wouldn't do for the remaining Hogwarts staff to see the Dark Lord near comatose from a little bit of exercise.

When the owners of the footsteps came around the corner, however, Tom very suddenly got a rather large dose of energy. Harry did too. Both husbands shot to their feet and ran as fast as they could. They got down two corridors, down a staircase and into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom before they calmed down enough to stop.

"Did you just see what I saw?" Harry asked in a very reedy tone.

"If you mean Filch holding McGonagall on a leash, yes, yes I saw that." Tom replied, turning to lean his forehead against the cold wall of the bathroom.

"He had a whip – did you see that? And what they were wearing!" Harry shuddered, moving closer to Tom.

"Oh please Merlin don't remind me of the leather!" Tom moaned, reaching out an arm to draw Harry tightly to his side. "He called her a good kitty!"

"Tom?" Harry asked, his voice muffled due to his face being firmly pressed into his husband's shoulder. "Did you see that she was smiling?"

"Harry, I'm going to teach you the Obliviate charm." Tom replied, slowly and evenly.

"Oh hell no!" Harry replied, ripping himself out of Tom's grasp. "I am not obliviating you, and being left with this memory! No way! You obliviate me!"

"But then I'm left with it!" Tom hissed. "You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

Two heads snapped towards the door as the distinct sound of footsteps approached the door.

"Tom!" Harry retreated from the door backwards. "Tom, you have to do something, I can't, Tom, I can't!"

With narrowed eyes, Tom surveyed the row of sinks, skimming back and forth ever more frantically as he heard the footsteps getting closer. With a roar of triumph, Tom stalked across to the third sink in.

"_Open_!" He hissed in parseltongue. "Come on Harry, this is the only way out!" Nodding in agreement, Harry jumped straight into the tube, letting Tom close the entrance behind him.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Up in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Albus Dumbledore stood, confused.

"I thought that Minerva said they came this way?" He mused aloud. "Ah well, perhaps she was mistaken. I shall have to ask her to be more discrete when the students return if this is the usual reaction."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Considerably calmer now both he and Tom were safe in the chamber of secrets, Harry smirked.

"Ohh Toooooooom!" He called out, licking his lips lasciviously.

- HBP – HBP- HBP – HBP – HBP -

**To everyone still reading this, thank you. I'm well aware it's been a very long time since I last updated this, almost a year, in fact, however it has been a very busy one. In this last year I've moved out of the family home, started at university in a new city and am currently recovering from surgery. This story arc is not abandoned, and neither are any of my other stories. They should be updated over the next few weeks. If I do decide to abandon anything ever, I will put notes up to make you aware.**


	7. Chapter 7

Tom's already strained libido had taken a serious turn for the worse when Harry announced that all the running had made him very hot. That the younger man had removed his shirt at his announcement _really_ drove Tom to distraction.

The pout that Harry gave next made up Tom's mind. Screw the healers, his husband was giving him _very_ clear signals. Tom unbuttoned his cuffs slowly, taking deliberately small steps towards the beautiful tanned body in front of him. Yes, he'd make his lover wait – with his carefully masked expression, Harry couldn't know that Tom was about to see if he could make the other man faint in pleasure.

"Merlin, Tom just get over here and fuck me!" Harry rolled his eyes at the taken-aback expression on his husband's face. "Tom, look down. You're pointing at me. I know what you're thinking."

Slowly, Tom lowered his head, a scowl pulling over his features as he saw for himself the truth in Harry's words. Impressively-sized Tom appeared to be on his way to Harry at a much quicker pace than the rest of Tom. Although, there was something to be said for speed...

Quick as a flash Tom crossed the distance between them, one hand reaching around for the back of Harry's head, his fingers sinking into the hair there as he crushed his lips onto his husband's. For a brief moment, Harry stayed perfectly still, leaving Tom to wonder if there was something wrong. He'd only pulled away mere millimetres before Harry too sprang into motion.

Launching himself at the older man, Harry's arms crossed around Tom's neck as his legs wrapped themselves around his middle, pressing their still-covered groins together. Both men let out throaty groans when Harry found his back pressed against the cold stone and lips frantically teasing at his throat. Tom shifted his feet, and Harry clearly heard the cracking of small skeletons beneath their feet.

"Tom." Harry gasped urgently. "Tom, stop!"

The look on Tom's face could have easily frozen fire. The raised eyebrow and thin lips put together with the cold glare would have stopped lesser men in their tracks. Luckily, Harry was a very brave Gryffindor. Or a very stupid Gryffindor, it could be argued.

"I just can't do it in here," Harry told his husband apologetically, gently lowering his legs to the ground. "Not on top of all these dead things!" Tom sighed.

"Well then, we will go and see Dumbledore." Tom snapped. "At least then this trip to the castle will have achieved_ something_!"

"I don't remember there being any bones in the main part of the chamber." Harry offered slyly. His face being turned away from Tom didn't quite hide the smirk that crept up as he spoke, but then, he hadn't intended it to either. "There was a bit of a cave-in, but I'm sure that to two grown, accomplished wizards such as ourselves it won't be a problem."

Tom's hand in his, pulling him along further into the chamber said that his husband had had no trouble in determining a solution to their problem. Impressively-sized Tom was once more pointing them towards the right path.

HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

With both wizards eagerly anticipating what lay ahead for them in the chamber, a series of the rocks that had blocked a twelve year old Harry and Ron were easily transfigured into a stable archway for the pair to pass through. As they stepped through, Harry had his eyes closed, sinking back into the memories of the dreams that had plagued him after the original chamber incident.

The Tom that had come out of the diary in those dreams wasn't as handsome as _his_ Tom, but he'd been the best looking man Harry had ever seen back in those days (particularly those days before he'd discovered Lavender's copies of _Playwitch_ filled with scantily clad wizards). Diary Tom had straddled young Harry and kissed him, hard.

Harry's eyes glazed over as he moved toward the centre of the room.

"Take me here, Tom!" He called out to his beloved, closing his eyes and preparing to be ravished. After a full minute in which ravishment did not seem to be forthcoming, Harry opened his eyes to see Tom on his knees, in tears, looking at something behind Harry.

"Oh, fuck." Harry groaned as he glanced over his shoulder at the corpse of the basilisk.

HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

"Are you trying to tell me that you _killed_ – no, that's not strong enough! You _murdered_ my dearest Anguem!" Tom screamed after Harry had told the entire story.

"I had no choice, it was trying to kill me!" Harry defended himself.

"You murdered Anguem in _cold blood_!"

"It was a _snake_, they _are _cold blooded!"

"_She _was a snake, Harry. And _she _was a snake with a name! Anguem! Use it!"

"Wait, wait, wait." Harry frowned at his husband. "You named the snake 'Anguem'? As in _snake_ but in Latin? What kind of a name is that?"

"I was fifteen!" Tom hissed quietly, eyes flicking back and forth nervously, as if he was afraid someone else would hear his admission. "You're allowed to be stupid when you're fifteen."

"I was _twelve_, don't I get a bit of leeway?" Harry retorted, trying hard not to laugh at Tom's last statement.

"You became a killer at twelve! That's different to naming a pet."

"You're calling a fifty-foot basilisk a _pet _now?" Harry asked incredulously. "Seriously?"

"She was only forty-eight feet long! Now you're disrespecting her memory by calling her fat!"

"I didn't say she was fat!" Harry backtracked. "I said she was big-boned."

"That means exactly the same thing." Tom pouted. "Don't you think you're still getting any. You can put your clothes right back on. And don't you dare assume you'll be sharing _my _bed tonight!"

Harry sighed. Two weeks on from their wedding and it _still _hadn't been consummated. It really was a fucking good job he sort of loved Tom.

HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

**Okay, I've had a couple of reviewers ask if/when we're going to see some Tom/Harry smut. To this, I have to say this chapter is pretty much as good as it's going to get for this story. Personally, I refuse to write something I have literally no idea about, and I'm pretty sure if I tried to write about two guys hooking up it would be hideously cringe-worthy and full of horrible clichés, which I refuse to be a part of. If you really really want to read Tom/Harry smut, _Surrender _by _Paimpont_ is a sweet favourite of mine, and for a slightly more serious read, _Possession_ by _Jade Tatsu_ is really great.**


	8. Chapter 8

As Tom had been unable to look his husband in the eye after hearing of the death of the first snake he had ever loved, the pair had decided that a talk with the headmaster was in order. Harry sullenly followed three paces behind Tom, certain that the elder man was overreacting.

"It tried to kill me!" He mumbled to himself, again.

"_SHE." _Tom spat, without turning around. Both partners could feel oncoming migraines, but neither was willing to give in.

"What do you even need to talk to Dumbledore about?" Harry grumbled. "I thought that me being sold off to you solved everything."

"Oh don't be ridiculous, you were not sold!" Tom rolled his eyes.

"Err no, pretty sure I was sold. Marry me and I won't kill people. Okay, _maybe _it's blackmail, but I was sold off to you all the same!" Harry pouted, slowing down slightly, letting himself lag a step or two behind to catch a glimpse of a behind he was _rather _fond of.

"Does it bother you that much?"

Harry frowned as the arse came to a halt, and swung out of view as it's owner turned to face him.

"I don't know." He replied honestly. "Do I wish we'd gotten together some normal way – of course! Even with the amount of time we've spent together, I don't know you as well as I'd like, and I don't know if I love you yet. When I was little, with the Dursleys, I promised myself that I'd have a family, and we'd love each other and we'd be happy."

"You don't think we could love each other?" Tom's breath hitched as he stepped closer to his husband.

"I never said that!" Harry defended, stepping back to lean against the cool stone wall of the castle's corridor. "I said I _don't know_. And right now, I'm not sure _how _I'm ever going to know when we spend all of our time bouncing from one thing to another! I just, I just need some time, to get used to all of this, to get used to _us_. We're stuck with each other forever, shouldn't that start now?"

"Let me make you dinner." Tom nuzzled his ear. "Let's go home, you can have a long, relaxing bath, and you can learn about me. About how well I cook, to begin with."

Harry looked up at Tom, emerald green eyes sparkling suspiciously under his dark fringe.

"Really?" He whispered.

"Really." Tom smirked back down at him, pressing a soft kiss into the younger man's hair.

HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Tom's version of cooking was, Harry discovered, very unique. It involved him sitting in a throne like chair, giving very precise directions to house elves. Each elf was, apparently, ordered to do exactly as their master told them, and then let the results be inspected by Tom. More than one elf was sent away for imperfect mashed potatoes.

Harry was pleased with the meal though. Rather than trying to give him an ostentatious, pretentious meal of gourmet delicacies, he had chosen his favourite childhood meal.

"Sausage and mash, a la Tom!" He proudly announced, as he levitated their plates down onto the dining table. "I know it's probably not what you were expecting, but I wanted to show you a bit more of me, that you hadn't seen before, and I guess I just..."

"Tom," Harry interrupted gently. "I love it. Apart from bangers and mash being a wonderful meal, this means I get to know you better. This is the real you, what you love, and one day, I hope I'll come under that category!"

"Well, yes, but I don't want to eat you."

"I could certainly see my way to eating a certain part of your anatomy," Harry leaned across the table, waggling his eybrows.

"Don't you dare _think _of such an atrocity!" Tom almost squealed, and Harry was sure he could see his husband's legs closing protectively. "You can't _eat_ it! That would _hurt!_"

"Tom – I didn't mean – I-" Harry sighed. "Let's just eat. And let's have wine. Let's have _lots _of wine."

HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

The house elves had been so good at providing lots of wine, that Harry was rather giggly. Sure, he'd fallen over a couple of times on his way up to the bathroom, but Tom had helped him up.

It didn't really matter to Harry that Tom had had a house elf run the bath for him. The man had given such strict instructions that it was _almost_ as if his husband had done it for him. Harry sunk into the hot water, grateful to wash off the grime that their little foray into the Chamber of Secrets had covered him with. Tom had even ordered some potions to be put into the water that meant he didn't even have to wash himself, and Harry could _feel_ the topical muscle relaxant taking effect as knots in his back began to unwind.

"This is wonderful, Tom!" Harry smiled, leaning back into his husband's chest. "Where did you get the idea to put all of these potions in the bath?"

"Lucius." Tom admitted. "That man puts more effort into his appearance than anybody I have ever met."

"Have you ever met his son?" Harry smirked, twisting around to gently kiss his husband's jawline.

"Kissing me, while talking of Malfoys, is _not _an option, oh husband-of-mine."

"I'll stop if you will." Harry teased back, deepening his kiss. Tom reached out to his shoulders, pulling the younger man around to face him fully. One hand snaked down his chest, circling his nipples, and dipping down, down, beneath the water, to find...

"Flaccid?!" Tom screeched, pulling away from Harry in confusion.

"What? I'm not..." His own hand reached down, cheeks blushing in embarrassment. "How? I don't..." Harry's head tilted to one side, fingers suddenly snatching out to reach for his husband's own fun-stick. "You too!"

"What?!" Tom roared, surging up out of the water to stare in dismay at his pelvis. "I am going to _KILL _Lucius Malfoy!"

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

**To everyone still reading this, thank you. I'm well aware it's been a very long time since I last updated this, but in my defence, I've had a very, very busy year. In this last twelve I've moved out of the family home, started at university in a new city, seen four family members in and out of hospital and am currently recovering from surgery. This story arc is not abandoned, and neither are any of my other stories. They should (hopfully) begin to be updated more regularly over the next few weeks. If I do decide to abandon anything ever, I will put notes up to make everyone aware.**


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